Tick
by Uncertain Anonymous
Summary: Armed with nothing and lacking lucid memory, Hermione Granger finds herself surrounded by unknown peers while she learns about magic and herself. Dodging Marauders and bullies alike, following Lily Evans's footsteps, and searching for a past that actually lies in the future are only normal parts of her life at this point.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Nowhere in my name resides a J.

A/N: This story is part of my response to a grave lack of time travel fics in which Hermione is not the same age as whatever character she ends up being paired with; in other words, she's always conveniently the same age as her romantic interest/plot-important characters via time turner. This is one of two stories I am writing to address this lack and show that even though time travel is at our disposal, fate isn't always convenient.

Other common themes in time travel fanfiction I wish to avoid include maltreatment of and/or evil-from-birth Peter Pettigrew (he has such potential to be a multidimensional character with such an internal struggle and we all ignore that), infinitely helpful Granger (she is neither a perfect character nor a perfect fix-all simply through her existence), evil Lily (especially just to get her out of the way romance-wise, this is cruel and unrealistic without a really good portrayal or with a huge focus on her imperfections), and the phenomenon I like to call Suddenly the Same in which every character in the original Order guest stars as a Marauder's peer.

So, what will you be seeing in this fic? You'll be seeing Hermione a few years behind the Marauders. You'll see her admiration of Lily Evans and her scorn of pranks on innocent victims. You'll see a Peter faced with several critical decisions that define who he is and will be. You'll see the Marauders as the bullies Snape once knew and you'll see them mature. You'll see a past and present modified by the existence of one girl. And, hopefully, you'll see multifaceted characters with complex personalities I'm attempting to recreate, not just replicate. I hope you like my approach.

And without any further ado,

-.-.-

CHAPTER THE PROLOGUE

It was odd, she thought, that her time-turner hadn't been taken away quite yet. It hadn't been a full day since the whole Sirius Black fiasco and Ron was still in the infirmary, yes, but it seemed that Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore would have taken it from her to hide any possible evidence of a Hogwarts student being involved with his escape. Here she was, free already to walk around the grounds so long as she could avoid whatever dementors still lingered.

And so she walked. She walked by Hagrid's home while pondering about Professor Lupin's fate. She passed the Whomping Willow as she pondered what could have been hers and Harry's because of his lycanthrope. She wandered around the greenhouses as she hoped Mr. Black and Buckbeak made it away safely. She went across the vegetable patch as she feared over Ron's rat - Peter Pettigrew, the traitor, the murderer, the evil one who got away. She started walking along the Lake as she thought about Harry's happiness and how unlikely it was he'd get away from those damned Dursleys any time soon.

She had almost made her way to the wall that blocked the second half of the Great Lake's edges, thinking again about Sirius Black - the innocent Mr. Black, not the evil, devious man she'd thought him to be. The innocent Mr. Black who she'd saved, that is. Well, she and Harry, and a bit of Dumbledore, too - the sly old man that he was, giving her the chance to do something drastic and dangerous. Not that she regretted it, oh no. She could never regret doing something that put such a happy expression on Harry's face.

She glanced around and saw the tall, robed figure of one of her Professors - too far away to pinpoint which one, but the robe wasn't that of the uniform so it must have been a teacher. She turned away from the teacher, suddenly struck with a panic she couldn't identify, and quickly paced away. I hope the Professor didn't see me, she thought desperately as her heart raced and her steps hurried frantically as they could without running.

And then she tripped and fell and there was a crash and a shatter and a bang and she was tumbling on the ground and flying in the sky and splashing in the water and a tentacle was around her and then there was pain and it all went black.

Including her memory.


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Yeah, no. I'm not a sensation.

A/N: Big thanks to the fav-ers and readers out there and even more thanks to the wonderful Milchi for reviewing! You guys made the writers' block I've had the past year-and-a-half worth the frustration. This chapter's a lot longer than the previous one, so be glad!

And without any further ado,

-.-.-

CHAPTER THE FIRST

_Why am I so scared?_

The thought came bubbling up to the forefront of her mind all of a sudden, but when she sent a probe back, looking for what made the noise, what thought up the question, nothing returned. There was a silence that echoed deep into her head. There was an absence of something, everything, that was odd but it wasn't like she could think of any time there was more than emptiness there.

In fact.

Thinking at all was incredibly painful.

It _hurt_.

So she stopped.

And the darkness enveloped her again.

…

When she awoke some-odd number of hours later, it was with a mild awareness of voices speaking and a pulse throbbing in the back of her head.

" - just found her in the Great Lake? Is there nothing else - "

" - seemed to be wearing the uniform, but had a Gryffindor - "

" - never seen her in my life; I would have been her Head of - "

Her eyes opened, and the voices soon stopped.

"Who are you?" a woman asked. She was tall, and a bit thin, and very, very old. She wasn't familiar in the least. But how could you know what familiarity is, the girl thought to herself. There's nothing here to compare to, said she to the deep, dark abyss of her mind. The only things in here are magic and the alphabet.

It was true. Her mind only contained letters and sounds scattered about, shattered, with a great aura of magic surrounding it all as the black extended up, down, left, right, forwards, backwards, everywhere. Her mind was a maze without any barrier that only told her the words of instantaneous thought.

"Who are you?" the girl asked in turn.

"I'm Professor Tippit, professor of the Enchantment of Magical and Nonmagical Items here at Hogwarts. And you?"

"Um." the girl licked her lips and thought. What was her name? My - my something, whispered the infinitely distant corners of her mind. My oh? My knee? No, it was missing something. Her or my knee? Something about that seemed really wrong, even overlooking the fact that no parent would ever name a child that.

Taking pity on the poor girl, one of the other two women in the room introduced herself first.

"I'm Professor McGonagall, professor of Transfiguration and Head of House for Gryffindor. This is Madame Pomfrey, our new nurse. I noticed that you were wearing the Gryffindor crest and a uniform, do you have any idea why?"

"Gryffindor," the girl murmured as letters and sounds combined into words which spilled information readily into her hands. "Godric Gryffindor, courage and chivalry, co-founder of Hogwarts, school of - of witchcraft and, um, wizardry?"

"What was that?" the two professors asked, slightly out of unison, as the Madame Pomfrey rushed off for whatever - potion, the word is potion, her mind supplied - she needed.

"My own knee!" she whispered excitedly as her head fixed the sounds together correctly. She cleared her throat and looked at the professors "Her-my-own-knee. Hermione. That's my - that's my name." Yes, that's my name, she reassured myself. Why didn't I know that, if I know all of these words?

"And your surname?" Professor Tippit asked, and Hermione's face went blank.

"...Farmer, maybe?" Hermione asked more than answered. "Or, or… um."

"Can you not remember?" Madame Pomfrey asked softly as she returned with a tray stacked with vials and jars. "I was worried you wouldn't. You hit the back of your head horribly and you were drowning for some time before someone was able to get you out of the Lake, so you didn't get air for a while." Understanding dawned on the professors' faces.

"The L-oh," Hermione wondered. "It was cold and wet, it makes sense. Um. The Great Lake, yes?"

"Hmm. Yes, that lake," Madame Pomfrey said softly. "Are you in any pain at all? I heard you fell from the sky into the water, however accurate or inaccurate the rumors of the students at Hogwarts. If so, you must be in a bit of pain."

"Well my head is, um, throbbing. I can't - "

"Drink this," the madame said as she handed her a vial with some greenish, viscous liquid, and Hermione immediately obeyed. "It'll soothe it all."

"I can't feel it anywhere - " Hermione continued, then paused and blinked. "Well, I didn't. But it's better now, though."

"Must've been in pain and gotten used to it," Pomfrey stated as she backed off a bit and looked the girl over.

"So, what can you remember?" Professor Tippit asked kindly.

"I don't know. I didn't think I knew my name a moment ago," Hermione admitted hesitantly. Then she blinked. "Hermione Granger. That's me. My surname's Granger." She paused. "I fell from the sky?" she asked.

"According to the two Ravenclaws that were supposedly studying by the Lake without any materials after only two weeks of schooling," said Professor McGonagall. "I don't believe they were, but they were the only ones there when they went to get me. Said they couldn't swim."

Hermione was quiet as she processed this new information.

I am Hermione Granger, she told her practically-empty mind. I fell from the sky, landed in the Great Lake at Hogwarts, and lost my memories. Some letters and sounds twirled together, attracting more and more and suddenly there was a folder in front of her with the word "IDENTITY" written in big, bold letters on top. She reached out and grabbed it in the quiet of her mind. There was only one page in it, and the only words on the page were the ones she'd just told herself. Another folder appeared nearby, similarly labelled "HOGWARTS". She grabbed it to find four pages - one for each of the women she'd met in the past minutes, with a picture, name and job description on them and a fourth with the words "Godric Gryffindor: one of the cofounders of Hogwarts" alone on it.

Well, at least she had something now.

Professor Tippit turned to her peers. "I'll go inform Albus while you see what you can gather. Which Ravenclaws told you? I may need to get them, too, to ask some questions."

"Ianthe Woolsworth and Piers Nye."

"The seventh-year lovebirds? I should have guessed. I'll go see what all I can dig up." Tippit turned back to Hermione. "I'll see you sometime soon. You'll get to meet Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. We'll try to figure out something for you, dear. Try not to worry."

With that, the professor nodded and left the infirmary and the other two women turned to the potions, muttering about possible memory-enhancing solutions. Hermione was left alone to her dark, empty mind. She shivered and reached for her two precious folders.

_Just who am I?_


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I have no claim to fame.

A/N: Big thanks to the new reads, favs, and follows. Even bigger thanks to my anonymous reviewer. In answer to your question, this will likely be a rather long and slow-progressing story. However, the chapters are probably going to be somewhat short, so it shouldn't take that long to read back-to-back-chapters.

As you can see, I'm attempting to get into some sort of regular updating pattern right now. No, this does not mean I'll be updating every other day. I'll likely slow down to once or twice a week once I get comfortable with writing again.

And without any further ado,

-.-.-

CHAPTER THE SECOND

When Professor Tippit finally returned with Professor Dumbledore, nearly a whole hour had passed.

The first several minutes without her had been quite uncomfortable for one Hermione Granger as Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall stayed to their corner muttering about potions and asking a Professor "slugged horns" about making something else. However, the two had soon realized the girl's situation and the professor quickly engaged her in somewhat stilted conversation in attempts to spark any sort of memory - the subjects ranged from Quidditch, a sport played on flying broomsticks, and the four Hogwarts houses to the possibilities of her parents' careers.

Hermione turned to look at Professor Tippit and the mysterious man with a long beard that entered the room. "Hermione Farmer-no, Granger, yes?" - Hermione nodded - "meet Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts. I've brought him to have a few words with you," Tippit said quietly to Hermione before she looked towards McGonagall. "I managed to catch up with Miss Woolsworth and Mr. Nye a few halls away. They stuck to what they said earlier." She turned her gaze back to Hermione. "Apparently, the two of them saw you appear in the sky in some sort of shower of gold sparkles and fall head-first into the middle of the Lake, whereupon you were grabbed by the Giant Squid who tossed you off to the side onto a large rock. I am unsure how much they've said isn't exaggerated, but your condition supports their statements, oddly enough."

Hermione nodded slowly, then turned her attention towards the Headmaster. "Hello," she said softly.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," he said kindly in response, blue eyes twinkling with amusement, interest, and maybe something else. "I understand you are lacking some memory."

_Some_? Hermione wondered.

"Yes, sir," she said instead.

"I have thought of a few spells that may help you in that respect." - Hermione visibly perked up - "Most of them haven't seen use inside these walls in years, so forgive me for any… rust, you could call it." The man slowly stepped forward to her cot and smiled down at her. "The first," he began, "is a test to see how many birthdays you have passed in your lifetime - how many your body has lived through rather than your mind, fortunately. The second is a way for me to learn how much your magic is tuned - an arbitrary measure of how much use you've had of it and how much you've learned to control it."

Hermione nearly asked him why he knew these spells if he hadn't used them when he either predicted or sensed her intention and answered. "The two spells are critical in accepting exchange students. They haven't seen use, however, in a very long time because Hogwarts is not known for exchanges. In fact, you are the first student to transfer to Hogwarts instead of immediately enrolling since 1876 - nearly a hundred years."

"Excuse me?" Hermione interrupted as politely as she could. "I - I am? I'm not - I am unaware if I am transferring here at all, are you sure - ?"

"You are indeed," the Headmaster stated. "I could find no record of any missing witch in Great Britain and it is infrequent for others to visit this area at all, let alone to fall from the sky into a lake. Now, may I?" He gestured with his wand towards her.

Hermione nodded and quieted as he performed his spells with a soft murmur of his voice and a few gentle hand motions.

"Ah!" he said after a few moments. "Thirteen years of age with an estimated four years of vigorous practice. How curious."

"Indeed," piped up Professor McGonagall from the background, causing Hermione to spin around suddenly in surprise, having forgotten the existence of any others in the room. "Shouldn't it only say two years? At thirteen, her education should have only lasted two years so far."

"Perhaps it was two years with twice the amount of practice as the average," the Headmaster stated calmly, but with the slightest furrow to his brow that hinted he did not quite believe his own words. "It is a rarely used spell as well, so it is possible I miscasted it." He eyed Hermione strangely, then looked past the professors to scan the room.

"Where is Poppy?" he wondered aloud softly.

"She went to speak to Horace, I believe," spoke McGonagall.

The headmaster hummed. "Let her know to send Miss Granger to my office after she is done healing. We'll have her sorted in private before announcing her presence to the school. Although." He paused. "Although, it is highly probable the students know this already."

"Gossips they are," Tippit mumbled. The rest of her sentence was indistinguishable.

"Um, Headmaster," Hermione began shyly, worrying her lip between two well-groomed rows of teeth, "are you sure I should be joining the school? You hardly know me and I hardly know myself, are you sure this is safe?"

He merely smiled mysteriously and turned to leave the room in response.

_How did this happen_? Hermione wondered. _And why is it happening so fast_?


End file.
